


breathing easy

by venndaai



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Breathplay, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, NOT FOR AL NOT FOR AL PLEASE NOT FOR AL, No shame november, Other, Strangulation, Voyeurism, this was supposed to be short but WHOOPS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: A traumatic encounter with Anaander Mianaai forces Breq and Seivarden to confront certain things about themselves and their relationship.Ann Leckie please never read this





	

* * *

“You can fight it,” _Mercy of Kalr_ whispered in her ear. “Captain. Please. Just a minute longer.” But she didn't have a minute. Her arm was rising, turning the gun towards her own skull.

The tyrant didn’t even look smug, just tired and frustrated. She must know killing Breq wouldn’t help her much in the long run. This body was young, and there was a fear to her; she was still hoping to escape this collapsing palace, even with her enemy’s fleet surrounding it. That was all she was focused on right now; that was why she was getting rid of Breq, not willing to trust her life to her other self’s secret access.

So this was it. Breq was angry, mostly, and she let that crowd out the sadness and fear. There wasn't even time to think of a song.

There was an incredibly loud sound and a great force picked her up and slammed her against the wall. Whoever was outside had given up on convincing the doors to open and had gone for an explosive solution.

Her ears were ringing, she was horizontal, but she hadn't let go of the gun. For a moment she hoped that the impact might have damaged it, but the green indicator was still on, the weapon was still humming, and it looked unbroken. Anaander Mianaai was getting up in the corner of her vision, covered in dust. Breq's arm rose again.

"Oh no you fucking don't," Seivarden shouted, and barreled into her, knocking her into the wall again.

The advantage of surprise allowed Seivarden to get a hold of the gun, but Breq recovered within half a second and had her hands around Seivarden's wrists, between her gloves and her sleeves. They struggled for a moment, and then Breq snapped Seivarden's wrist. Breq felt the pain that made Seivarden scream, but her body didn't react. Seivarden's face screwed up in agony, but she managed to twist the entire right side of her body hard enough to send the gun flying across the space to smack into the unbroken wall with a loud crack.

Breq let go of Seivarden, who hunched over, cradling her hand against her chest. Breq stalked over to the far wall and picked up the gun. The battery was cracked, the light dead and the weapon silent.

“Breq,” Seivarden said hoarsely, voice uneven with pain. “Tell me how to get you out of this.”

“Fuck,” Anaander hissed, “forget the gun, just kill her, now.”

Something inside Breq went cold and terrified.

“Breq,” Seivarden repeated.

Breq turned. Anaander was edging towards the back door. Seivarden's eyes kept flickering between her and Breq. She wasn’t covered in dust like Breq and Anaander, but there were burn marks on her uniform and a scratch along one cheek, livid red. She was still cradling her hand and breathing heavily, but her stance had shifted into readiness. It wouldn't help her.

“Fuck you,” Breq said to Anaander Mianaai.

“This is your own fault,” the tyrant said, bitter and afraid. “It should not have come to this.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Seivarden said, and moved to hit her.

Breq was not aware of moving. She only heard the crunch of bone beneath her foot, heard Seivarden's scream, saw her hands around Seivarden's neck, felt the two of them slam into the wall. Felt Seivarden's breath on her face as it was knocked out of her lungs.

“No,” Breq heard herself say.

There was a pause as Seivarden’s brain caught up with events, and then there was motion, Seivarden struggling, kicking and hitting with her broken wrist, her broken leg, while Breq remained still and implacable as stone. Awn hadn't had time to struggle. If the gun hadn't been broken Anaander would have ordered her to shoot- Breq's hands were not responding to her will but she could feel Seivarden's windpipe, her carotid arteries, constricting under her grip, could feel the hammering of her pulse, and at the same time Seivarden's implants were streaming information into Breq's head, Breq could feel her pain, her fear, her desperate need for air. Air wasn’t the problem, Breq knew, and if Seivarden was thinking straight she would know it too.

The world had narrowed to the two of them. Seivarden was still trying to scratch at her but she would stop soon. Ten seconds. Maybe less. Breq still had control of her voice. She needed to say something. She couldn't think of anything.

The seconds dragged out. Seivarden was making small choking noises. Her movements became more erratic, and began to slow. Breq's grip tightened. She didn't know why she wasn't breaking Seivarden's spinal cord, or any of her other neck bones, or damaging the carotid sinus. Maybe Anaander’s control wasn’t total after all. For all the good it would do. She supposed she should be grateful her hands were content to compress her airway and arteries. That Seivarden would get a few more moments to experience Breq killing her.

Abruptly, the struggling stopped. Breq looked at Seivarden's face, expecting to see her unconscious. But she was still aware, and was looking at Breq with a strange placidity. Her implants showed a calm that didn't make any sense, even for her level of hypoxia.

Say something, Breq thought. You need to say something. You didn't say anything to Awn-

Maybe _Mercy of Kalr_ was talking to her. _Mercy of Kalr_ wasn't a coward like Breq. _Mercy of Kalr_ cared about its crew. It wouldn't let Seivarden die alone. Surely not.

Maybe _Mercy of Kalr_ would explain that Breq's throat wasn't working, would explain that it wasn't that Breq didn't care enough to speak, to give her victim at least some word of comfort.

Maybe speaking would even be crueller, for what could she possibly say, how could words ever suffice to apologize for this? Wouldn’t it be worse, to try and give this some narrative, to try and obscure the truth?

Seivarden's eyes were dark and wide, and Breq felt what she was feeling, couldn't possibly avoid the data _Mercy of Kalr_ was pouring down through their link, the overwhelming, all-encompassing, undeniable emotion that was washing across Seivarden's mind, and Breq couldn't breathe either, could only think, no, no, no, stop.

It stopped. Seivarden's face went slack. Her body slumped. Breq's hands still held her in place against the wall. That morning she'd woken up when Breq got up, and said, “Good luck today,” and Breq hadn't said anything back.

Seivarden had said, “You're stuck with me.” Seivarden had said, “She'll never, ever let you down.” But Breq had let her down. Breq had failed yet again.

From this there would be no recovery.

Anaander was banging at the back door, but it must have been damaged somehow in the explosion because it wasn’t opening. Breq didn’t care. She watched the oxygen levels in Seivarden’s brain fall, felt her pulse fluttering in Breq’s viselike grip. Time was starting to slip. How long had she been standing here? Her arms ached a little.

Anaander gave the door a final kick, and then spun back to Breq. “Fine,” she said, and Breq knew the next order out of her mouth would be, “Just snap her neck and let’s go,” and the horror of it lay crushingly heavy on her chest.

There was a deafening bang. Breq's head turned. Ekalu stood silhouetted in the hole in the wall. “Next one is in your head,” she said, gun leveled at Anaander. “My lord. Let her go.”

The lord of the Radch looked at Breq, face full of hatred and fear and other things, all of it irrelevant. “Don't think you've won,” she spat. “You or her. All of me knows the song.”

“You're going to die,” Breq said. Hands still pinning Seivarden by the throat, though she wasn’t sure why, because there was no pulse beating against her hands any more.

“Ugh,” said Anaander. “Stand down, _Justice of Toren_.”

Breq's arms dropped. Seivarden fell, head hitting the floor with a crack. Ekalu said, “Thank you,” and pulled the trigger. Anaander Mianaai dropped, and did not move.

Ekalu took a step towards Seivarden. “No,” Breq said. She wanted to curl up and sob, but Ekalu didn't have the first aid experience she did, didn't have an ancillary's patience and steadiness and timing. Breq could see Seivarden's vitals, could see that her heart hadn’t completely stopped, was very quietly fibrillating. She could see the activity still happening in her brain. There didn't appear to be any serious physical damage to the windpipe, arteries or larynx. Breq bent over Seivarden's still body and began chest compressions and mouth to mouth breathing.

After a moment she heard Ekalu leaving, knew she was running to meet a hurrying Medic and the soldiers carrying a suspension pod behind her. Breq didn't pay any of them much attention. Seivarden wasn't responding. The oxygen and blood seemed to be at least partly getting to her brain, but she wasn't breathing, and her heartbeat was getting more irregular, not less. Breq continued the compressions, though her mind kept trying to leave, to take her anywhere else. She felt one of Seivarden's ribs break, but grimly continued.

Officers had died under her hands before. Been injured in the field, despite their armor, despite the ancillary bodies meant to shield them. She'd killed officers. Her captain, at Garsedd. Lieutenant Awn. She'd lost favorites.

None of them had ever lain in bed with her, breath warm against her neck. None of them had ever told the Lord of the Radch, “You should not dare even to _mention_ her.” None had cried over someone who wasn’t even human. None had died for her, to save her.

More than a favorite. Not in the sense of being worth more, being more important, but Breq was losing more. She was losing a friend.

She remembered Seivarden lying in the snow. The familiar line of shoulder and back. She looked similar now, though the line of her splayed arm was twisted where the wrist bone had been broken. And she was facing up. Breq could see her glassy eyes staring at nothing. Her blue-tinted skin was damp with fallen moisture, and Breq paused for a second to scrub at her own face, her leaking eyes.

The lights in Seivarden's brain were going out. If there was a heartbeat, it was no longer strong enough to be visible. She'd cried when she was seventeen, her first night aboard, but not where anyone could see- no human, at least. She'd ignored the ancillary who had brought her tea- Two Esk, that had been, because One Esk was all downwell, killing rebels. Not said “thank you-” though the ship hadn't expected that- or even nodded, acknowledged its presence at all. Her gaze had passed over its face with total disregard. She'd rubbed at her eyes, bitterly angry at them for betraying her with tears. One Esk had wanted to remind her of that, two weeks later when she told a sobbing prisoner to shut up. When One Esk had felt that surge of anger and known Seivarden was going to hit someone with her gun.

She hadn't seen that violent anger since she'd hit Seivarden in Strigan's cold living room. Not once.

This was pointless. She should stop trying to bring back what was gone. She should say what she needed to say, even though it was too late for the words to be heard. She should hold Seivarden's hand. That was what humans did for each other.

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn't sure how much later it was that voices told her, “Fleet Captain, it's all right, you can stop, we've got her,” that hands gently pulled her away. Someone was touching her shoulder. She slumped to the floor, which was cool against her face. Saw the stain of blood on gray plastic, where Seivarden’s head had hit it. Rolled over, and found herself looking at the dead Anaander. She wanted to get up and go spit on the body. Instead she closed her eyes, and sank away from herself, spread herself thin over all the incoming data, every officer and soldier and instrument of the ship. Her hand, outstretched against the floor, reached for nothing.

 

* * *

 

She came back to awareness slowly, and not to her own body, but to Medic, looking at a drawer full of correctives. Picking one up, turning, the white walls of Medical around her. Going over to a bed, where Seivarden lay, alive, breathing. Dreaming of something. A hard corrective around her torso. Her wrist and leg in splints. Someone had placed a small charm in her hand. A symbol of Aatr, to draw the god's attention to someone who needed healing.

Breq's awareness moved. Ekalu, in her quarters. Kneeling before a small personal altar. She had just finished praying, and was relighting an incense stick which had blown out. Cheap incense. She could afford better now, but old habits were hard to break. She was shaking, and unaware of it.

Etrepa One was in command, and nervous, uncertain of her authority. She was talking to Ship. Ship was replying, smooth, reassuring, calm.

Amaat Four and One were cleaning vents outside of Medical that had been cleaned only three days before. They were singing, very quietly, songs that they knew Seivarden liked, old ones, with words they barely understood and sometimes got wrong. Some of them in languages they didn't know, songs that Seivarden had picked up from One Esk, when she was a Lieutenant, when One Esk didn't know she was listening, and never expected her to remember. The rest of Amaat sat around their decade table, jealous of Four and One, trying to play cards but unable to muster the proper focus for it.

 _Mercy of Kalr_ moved through the nothingness of gatespace, taking its passengers away from whatever remained of the provincial palace, taking them home.

Kalr Five entered the captain's quarters, tea bowl in her hands, and looked at the Fleet Captain's tense face and closed eyes, and that jolted Breq back into her own body, which felt bruised and aching despite being completely unharmed and clothed in freshly pressed undergarments and a soft robe. Breq opened her eyes, wincing at the light.

“Begging the Fleet Captain's most generous indulgence,” Kalr Five said, “would she like some tea?”

Breq asked, scratchy, “Why am I here?”

Five went blank. “You were very tired, sir. We brought you to your room so you could be comfortable. Medic cleared you, but she advised some rest.”

Breq didn't say anything.

She shouldn’t be here, but by now she knew enough about her crew to understand why they hadn’t left her on the floor where she’d collapsed.Why she was only a deck away from Seivarden, whose skin still bore the shadow of bruises and who was still lost in distant dreams.

“Do you want tea, sir?”

She didn’t answer. Five started to boil water anyway. Six entered, and Breq stood, and let herself be dressed, not really feeling the gloved hands that touched her.

 

* * *

 

She'd thought she'd never close her eyes and see worse than Awn dead on the floor but now that image was alternating with the memory of Seivarden going slack and tranquil, broadcasting quiet acceptance over their connection before slipping out of consciousness. Breq reached for her- she was in medical, asleep, safe, having a bad dream- Breq shoved her away, guilty, and she was dying on the office floor again, looking like herself, then Awn, then herself again.

“You're hyperventilating,” Kalr Five said, probably for Mercy of Kalr.

Breq put her tea bowl down, and got to her feet. “Would you ask Ekalu to report to me, please,” she said. Wished she could frame it as a request and not an order.

When Ekalu came in Breq was resting her head against the wall, Kalr Five watching, externally stoic but distraught herself. Breq didn't need to turn to see Ekalu's rigid posture and ancillary-blank expression. Ekalu was anxious, concerned and still a bit horrified, and still shaky with delayed adrenaline. She wasn't the slightest bit angry, had no negative feelings about standing to attention before the person who had nearly killed her lover. Breq desperately wished she would be.

“I need to say thank you,” Breq said. “Without your quick action, I-” She stopped. Didn't finish the sentence.

“Sir,” Ekalu said. “I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, sir.”

Breq pressed her head harder against the wall.

“I'm turning over command to you, Lieutenant, until Lieutenant Seivarden can return to duty,” she said eventually.

Shock and dismay from Ekalu. “Sir,” she said.

“You're perfectly capable,” Breq said. “You'd probably be a better captain than Sei-” She stopped, tasting bitter guilt. “You shouldn't worry,” she said.

“Sir,” Ekalu said. “You're going off duty, sir?”

“You could say that,” Breq said. “I'm leaving, Lieutenant. Well, not right now, but once we get back to Athoek.” The wall, warmed by her body heat, was no longer cool enough to soothe the pain in her head. “This is a permanent transfer of command.”

Ekalu stared at her. Began to say something, then stopped, listening to _Mercy of Kalr._

Said, flatly, for Ship, “You are being foolish again.”

Breq didn't see the point in replying to that. She turned from the wall, sat down in her chair, couldn't stand it and stood up again.

“No one on this ship blames you for what happened, or wishes you gone,” Ekalu said. “Especially not Lieutenant Seivarden.”

“How do you know,” Breq asked. “She hasn't woken- hasn't woken up yet.”

“I know,” Ekalu said- Ship said. “And so do you. You _know_.”

And Breq did know, knew what Ship was referring to.

That moment, before Seivarden had lost consciousness.

“I can't do this,” Breq said.

Ship said, through Ekalu, “Yes, you can. You will. Because you know we need you. She needs you.”

Breq knew Ship was right, and she remembered, terribly, crushingly, that she had a debt, and she would have to make some attempt to repay it, even if it was a hundred times more hopeless than speaking to an angry Basnaaiad Elming in the Athoek Gardens.

 

* * *

 

Seivarden woke up an hour later. She opened her eyes to the white ceiling of Medical, and said, “Is Breq all right?”

“The captain is fine,” Medic said, somewhat grumpily. “How are you feeling?”

She considered. “Fine,” she said, though she wasn't. She hurt all over, but only distantly.

“Good. Sit up, we need to do some tests to make sure you didn't lose any important brain cells.” Seivarden began to move, and Medic put a hand on her shoulder. “Carefully, Lieutenant. You broke one rib and bruised two others; I only took the correctives off you thirty minutes ago.”

Seivarden sat up, slowly, feeling various mild aches. The charm in her hand fell onto the bed. She picked it up and looked at it. Those kinds of religious tokens hadn't been popular with Seivarden's social and cultural class, and she wasn't very familiar with them. She blinked at it, and then closed her fingers around it.

Ekalu came in fifteen minutes later, after Medic had finished asking Seivarden questions and tracking her eye movements. Ekalu bowed slightly to Medic, an apology for intrusion. “Ship told me you were awake,” she said to Seivarden.

Seivarden gestured to herself. “Well, you were informed correctly,” she said, and managed a smile. She raised her hand, turned it over and uncurled her fingers. “This yours?”

Ekalu went expressionless for a moment, trying to come up with a response, and finally said, “Yes. You can keep it if you want it. But you don't have to. I just thought-” She bit back an apology that rose up automatically. “My sister gave it to me when I was sick a few years ago.”

Seivarden rubbed her thumb over the carved surface, not looking at either it or Ekalu, but smiling a bit more genuinely. “Thank you,” she said. “Really.”

Amaat Four entered, very blank to cover her extreme emotions, a folded uniform in her arms. “Sir,” she said, bowing in Seivarden and Ekalu's directions.

Seivarden looked at Medic. “Can I go back on duty?”

“Just take it easy if you can,” Medic said. “Get out, and please don't come back for a while, all right?”

“No promises,” Seivarden said, trying to be humorous.

Ekalu put a gloved hand on her arm, and then left. Amaat Four helped Seivarden dress. Seivarden slipped the charm into one of her uniform's pockets.

It was easy for Breq to avoid Seivarden, as captain and with _Mercy of Kalr_ as her accomplice. She moved throughout the ship, keeping a deck's distance from Seivarden at all times. But she didn't see the corridors she passed through, unable to look away from Seivarden's constant, reassuring data stream.

Seivarden didn't ask anyone where she was. Her eyes swept over every room she entered, looking for someone, but she didn't say anything about it. She joked and laughed with Amaat Decade, and sat down to play a hand of cards, and then continued on as though everything was normal.

Ten hours later, she began to tire, and automatically began to head towards Breq's quarters. Breq, having anticipated this, was not there, but instead was standing by the primary shuttle airlock, struggling with herself. The desire to get far away from Seivarden was almost as strong as the need to stay close enough to act against any possible danger.

Seivarden entered Breq's dark, empty quarters, and sighed. She sat down on the bed, and pulled a hand through her hair. “Ship,” she said. “She is really all right, isn't she? And on board?”

“Yes, lieutenant,” _Mercy of Kalr_ assured her.

“Well,” Seivarden said. “I suppose you wouldn't lie to me.” She yawned, and lay down. “Thanks, Ship.”

“You are very welcome, Lieutenant.”

All right, Breq thought. I'll just sleep while she's awake.

That wouldn't completely solve the problem- Breq needed a lot less sleep than Seivarden did- but it would help.

She expected Ship to tell her, _You'll have to talk to her eventually_ , but Ship was silent.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, Seivarden entered Ekalu's quarters, and folded herself down onto Ekalu's bed, sitting hunched at the head of the bunk with her back against the wall. Ekalu sat down on the other end.

“I didn't want to say anything,” Seivarden said. “But it's been days. Ship says she isn't angry with me, but I don't know.”

Ekalu put her hand on Seivarden's knee. “If it helps,” she said, “I believe that you two will sort this out. You care so much about each other.”

“Thanks,” Seivarden said. She folded her arms across her chest. “I'm sorry I've been a drag lately. I just can't stop thinking about the whole mess.” She shook her head as though trying to clear it.

"Is there anything I can do that would help you?" Ekalu asked, hand warm on Seivarden's knee. Perfectly polite and casual, but that hand gave her words the intended overtone.

Seivarden didn't meet her eyes. "I don't have the right to ask," she said miserably.

"That's not..." Ekalu sighed. "I'm offering," she said. "Tell me, and if I want to do it I will, and if I don't... hopefully no hard feelings."

"All right," Seivarden said, after a pause. "It's... not great, though."

"Oh, just tell me already," Ekalu said, exasperation winning out over uncertainty. "If it's something disgusting I promise to put it down to brain damage and not... being a career officer, all right?"

That got Seivarden laughing. "Aatr's tits," she swore. "I guess I must have done something right at some point, if you're talking to me like that."

Ekalu gave her one of her small, intense smiles.

"All right," Seivarden said again. "I want..." She took a deep breath. "I want you to put your hands around my neck."

 

* * *

 

Breq jolted violently away, back into awareness of her own surroundings, her own body which had convulsively flinched, to the nausea in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want to see this. She shouldn't have been looking. She didn't want to know. But she'd lost control, she was already reaching, her subconscious mind disobeying her commands, Seivarden was saying, "Not squeezing or anything, just- just resting your hands there? Just- just the weight."

Ekalu placed her bare hands on Seivarden's skin, where dark bruises had been only days previously. She was surprised, a little startled, but also intrigued. Not revolted. Not shocked like Breq was.

She wasn't supposed to see she wasn't supposed to know- this was something that had happened to Seivarden (something Breq had done to her) and it was her right to process it in whatever way would be most helpful- Breq had no right-

“I can shut you out,” _Mercy of Kalr_ said. Silently, directly. Not involving any of their soldiers.

Breq sat down on her bunk. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

One moment she knew Seivarden was breathing slowly and deeply, hands pressing Ekalu's bare fingers harder against her throat, and then it was gone, and everything was quiet. Breq sat on her bunk. She picked up her tea.

Two minutes later she was on the floor.

“Captain,” _Mercy of Kalr_ said.

“I'm fine,” Breq said.

"You are hyperventilating,” her ship told her. “You are scratching at the carpet. You are making sounds of distress. You are not fine.”

“I'm fine I'm fine-” but she wasn't. Seivarden was gone. Vanished. Like Awn, at the temple in Ors. Like Awn in the Var decade room, face down in a pool of blood. This was stupid. She'd been with Seivarden a year before they came aboard _Mercy of Kalr_ , an entire year when she'd had no data, no constant feeds, no connection always within reach. She'd been fine then. She hadn't cared. She shouldn't care now.

She reached, and this time Ship showed her. Seivarden on her knees on the bed, still fully dressed, Ekalu kneeling in front of her, Ekalu pressing her into the wall with hands around her neck, gentle, firm pressure. Seivarden had a hand down her uniform trousers, was pressing down as Ekalu pressed against.

Lying on the floor, Breq felt her thighs shift, moving against each other. There was heat and tension there, and she didn't know if it was coming from Seivarden or Ekalu or herself.

Ekalu thought for a moment, and then ran the flat palm of her hand down the line of Seivarden's throat. Seivarden shivered. “Tell me what you want,” Ekalu whispered, and Seivarden said,

“Be rough now, please.”

“Beg me,” Ekalu said.

It was one of the nights that she didn't want to be touched herself, but she wanted very much to see Seivarden climax. Breq felt her desire, her need. Breq lay on the floor, her eyes shut, one gloved hand slipping between her legs, gripping herself. Tension spiked through her body, from her forehead down to her feet.

Seivarden said, rough, hoarse, “Please.” Seivarden said, “I was lying when I said I didn't want you squeezing my throat.”

Breq's hand spasmed, and she curled in on herself, breathing hard.

“We need to be careful,” Ekalu said. “Will you promise to tap out when you need to?”

She nodded eagerly. “I promise. Ekalu, please.”

Ship said in their visions, _I'll keep an eye on things._

Ekalu was relieved by that. She never seemed to mind Ship involving itself in her bedroom affairs.

Breq remembered being a ship. Remembered being a decade of ancillaries. Remembered Awn and Skaaiat in the sticky heat of an Orsian afternoon, an Esk soldier standing expressionless outside their door while another in the privacy of their sleeping quarters touched itself and moaned. Just a physical reaction, One Esk had told itself. Even if you had emotions. Even if you were made to care for your officers. It couldn't be personal when you weren't a person.

Anaander Mianaai had tried to make her a nonperson again, and if it hadn't been for Ekalu, she would have succeeded.

Ekalu was closing her hands very slowly around Seivarden's neck. Seivarden was breathing shallowly. She had one finger inside herself now, and was moving in small jerks.

One of Ekalu’s thumbs moved up until it could slip inside the edge of Seivarden’s mouth, pulling against her cheek. Seivarden moaned, stroking herself faster and harder.

Breq should stop watching. Should get up, wash her hands, change her gloves. Go to the bridge and talk to the on-duty crew, distract herself.

Her hips moved of their own accord, against her hand, against the floor and its rough carpet. Desperate for friction, as Seivarden began to fuck herself in earnest. Ekalu shifted forward, put her knee between Seivarden's thighs, and Seivarden ground against her. “Hold your breath,” Ekalu whispered, and obediently Seivarden’s chest stilled even as the rest of her body swayed. Ekalu leaned even closer, balanced by their interlocked legs, and locked her mouth with Seivarden’s, sucking and biting as Seivarden struggled to keep her throat from expanding, as Ekalu’s knee pressed hard against the back of Seivarden’s hand, as Seivarden’s fingers dug deep inside, as Ekalu’s hands squeezed. Breq felt both of them, their desire entangling and merging into something too intense to bear.

Ship said, to Ekalu, “Now,” and Ekalu tightened her grip by that final degree, and Seivarden's fingers curled and jerked, and every muscle clenched and then-

Breq rolled onto her back, and lay there, hot, sticky, breathing heavily, as Ekalu let go of Seivarden's neck and held her as she slowly, shakingly came down, Ekalu simultaneously getting herself off quickly and easily with her free hand. Ekalu’s release rolled over Breq like a wave. The two lieutenants laid side by side for a bit, loose, relaxed and pliant, Seivarden’s head lolling against Ekalu's shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Seivarden said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Ekalu panted, still slightly breathless.

They were both cleaned up and back on duty in less than fifteen minutes. Breq lay on the floor unmoving for considerably longer.

 

* * *

 

 

“You need to speak with her,” _Mercy of Kalr_ said.

Breq paused. Lowered her practice gun. “And what do you suggest I say, exactly?”

“Anything.” The ship was speaking through Kalr Seven, who was studiously checking the range’s equipment so she didn’t have to look at Breq while she spoke. “Neither of you will be happy until you do.”

Breq knew this was probably true, but she also knew with just as much certainty that if she came too close bad things would happen. That Seivarden was really still dead, only revived on temporary grace that would be taken away if Breq saw her, touched her, in person.

And then there was the hotter, more shameful guilt. The images of Seivarden and Ekalu that were now just as likely to visit her at night as the nightmares.

“She shouldn’t have been on the station. I forbade her from following me, because of this.”

“Because of what, exactly?” Seven’s voice was so flat the question mark was almost inaudible.

Breq put down the gun, turned, and walked out of the firing range, which did precisely nothing as far as statements went. She would never be able to walk away from Mercy of Kalr, as long as she remained part of this crew.

Ship continued to speak through words broadcast over her vision, confirming this. _I don’t know exactly what to tell you,_ the words said, and though they were visual only Breq could feel a mounting sense of frustration, not entirely directed at her. _I know I am not the right person to speak to you on this topic, but the right person would, I suspect, be the Lieutenant, and you are refusing to speak to her._

“What topic?” Breq muttered, remembering too late that she had intended to remain silent.

But it was at this supremely unsatisfying point that _Mercy of Kalr_ chose to end the conversation.

 

* * *

 

“Fine,” Breq said, when her feet took her back to her cabin. “Send her in.”

“Sir?” Kalr Five asked. Breq shook her head and waved a hand.

“Would you like tea, sir,” Five asked.

It would give her something to do with her hands, but- “No.”

Five nodded, and stood still and quiet by the door. Breq sat down and opened up a report, staring at it it for a few minutes until Kalr Five said, “Lieutenant Seivarden to see you, sir.”

“Come in,” Breq called, and the door slid open, and Seivarden entered. Uniform freshly pressed, hair wet from a recent shower and not yet braided, hanging heavily down to her shoulders. Small wispy strands were beginning to dry and curl messily outward. Breq saw these details in a flash, before she turned away from the door.

“Sir,” Seivarden said. Eyes deferentially downcast. She was feeling a strong urge to kneel, and wondering at it.

Breq didn’t look at her. She gestured to Kalr Five, who bowed and left, the door to the cabin hissing shut behind her. Breq stood up, and turned her back to Seivarden, staring at the far wall. The coat of white paint needed refreshing.

She wished Seivarden would speak, but she was apparently playing proper officer for once, remaining infuriatingly silent.

Starting with an apology hurt, not because of any blow to her pride, but because it was so inadequate. “We should have spoken much earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Seivarden said. Subdued, quiet, still.

“You disobeyed my orders.”

Disappointment from Seivarden, resigned dismay. And a flicker of relief, that this conversation would cover familiar territory, would be merely a retread of old ground. “Sir.”

“I told you to remain on the ship. You abandoned your command.”

“Sir,” Seivarden said. “Respectfully, I did not. I made a tactical decision to take a squad to the docks to scout the situation. Once we’d discovered you were in danger, I had a duty to assist you, and I knew I was the only one who could make it to you in time, given the mess the palace was in.”

Any other Radchaai officer would never argue with her captain like this, but if Breq were to be honest, the relationship of captain and officer often felt like an ill-fitting veneer, placed to cover the something else that they were, not really covering it up very well.

Breq heard herself ask, “Did you kill anyone to get to me?” Not what she had intended to ask, and it was more or less irrelevant, but curiosity had taken hold for a moment.

She heard Seivarden shift a little. “I shot a few,” she said. “I don’t know if they survived. I was in a hurry.”

Breq was silent for a moment. Seivarden shifted again, and then Breq had a sense of her settling back down.

“You stopped struggling,” Breq said, flat. Not turning around. Not looking through Ship's eyes.

She hadn’t meant to get to the point so quickly, but perhaps it was for the best.

Silence, as Seivarden adjusted to the forward leap in the conversation. “Well-” There was a slight sound of shifting fabric. Perhaps Seivarden had shrugged. “I knew it was pointless. There was no way I could beat you in a fight, ever. I was being practical.” But Breq caught the edge in her voice, the twist of a lie.

“You were all right with it,” she said. “With dying.”

“I didn't want to,” Seivarden said, relieved, something becoming clear to her. “If that's what you're worried about. I haven't wanted to in a long time.”

“But you were all right with it.”

Seivarden was silent for twenty seconds that stretched out long and awkward.

“I knew the others were on their way,” she said at last. “I thought I'd probably managed to stop her from killing you. And I thought, that's what matters. I mean- I'd be dead twice over if not for you, so, it would be right with Amaat if- if I went out that way. There'd be a reason why you jumped off that bridge.”

It was Breq's turn to be silent.

“There already was a reason,” _Mercy of Kalr_ said.

“Ship,” Breq said. “You don't have to involve yourself in this.”

“I think I do,” Ship said. “I know what it was like for you, better than she does. Lieutenant, I think part of it was that she is the Fleet Captain, and she cannot stand by and remain uninvolved in any situation. But I think, if it had been me- if you had been one of my officers, and been lost for a thousand years-”

“She never even liked me,” Seivarden said.

“You were the last she had,” Ship said. “And there was a chance to save you. The way she couldn't save Lieutenant Awn.”

“Oh,” Seivarden said.

It wasn’t that simple. Breq knew it, and knew that _Mercy of Kalr_ knew it too. But perhaps it was best to give Seivarden only this. She was struggling even with the half truth, Breq could see.

She deserved much more, but justice wasn’t always possible.

So. Time to decide, if she really wanted to go forward with this.

It didn’t feel like the right choice, but she didn’t trust her feelings on this one, and at least perhaps this would deal with the terrible guilty want in her stomach, one way or another.

Breq said, “You liked it.”

“What?” But Breq could feel Seivarden’s guilt. She knew what they were talking about.

“Part of you liked my hands around your neck.”

“Aatr's tits,” Seivarden said. “Fuck. Breq, I don't-”

Breq cut her off. “Do you still want that.”

Shock.

“Fuck, Breq,” she said. “Did you really just ask me that.”

“I did.”

“Varden's toenail clippings.” She took a shuddering breath. “You- you know I do.”

“We can do it again,” Breq said. “If you want.”

Silence. Breq finally turned. Saw Seivarden staring at her, expression puzzled. “Would you get something out of that?” Seivarden asked.

Yes, said the tremble in Breq's hands. Yes, said the heat in her groin. “Yes,” she said.

“Fuck,” Seivarden said.

Breq tsked. “Language, Lieutenant,” she said.

Seivarden grinned at her. “Sorry,” she said. “If you really mean it- just tell me how you want it, and I'm down.”

Breq walked to where Seivarden was standing, and gestured for her to step back, against the wall. “Unbutton your jacket,” she said. Seivarden's hands went up to her throat. Fumblingly awkward, she undid the first three buttons on her uniform jacket. “Stop,” Breq said. “That's enough.”

Slowly, Seivarden's hands dropped.

Breq reached up with one hand. Touched Seivarden's cheek. Seivarden closed her eyes, letting out a breath, and turned her face slightly, into the touch. Breq's hand slid down, along cheekbone and chin and jaw, until it rested lightly against Seivarden's exposed neck. Dark, near-black skin, strong cords of muscle, still a bit too prominent against her thinness. Breq could feel the hyoid bone under her thumb, the laryngeal prominence, the bumps of cartilage. Seivarden's skin was hot. She was uncomfortable in the heavy jacket, but she didn't want to take it off.

She sucked in a sharp breath when Breq placed her second hand around her neck.

“This ends the second either of us wants it to,” Breq said.

She nodded. Breq felt the motion. “Of course,” she said, and her voice vibrated in Breq's palms.

Breq wanted to test a theory. She said, evenly, “If I chose not to let you go, you wouldn't be able to break free.”

Saw Seivarden's reaction to that.

“You like knowing it,” Breq said. “That you would have no chance against me, in a fight.”

Seivarden tilted her head back, exposing her neck further, hair spraying across the wall. “Yes,” she confirmed. “It's pretty fucking hot.”

She was relieved, Breq saw, relaxed, now that she knew it was safe to speak so honestly, so openly to Breq. It made Breq a little sad. That openness wouldn't be a bad thing to have around more often. She had it with _Sphene_ , sometimes, because they had no history, and yet an automatic shared understanding. Perhaps there could be something similar with Seivarden, with whom she had so much history, and that fragile understanding they had both struggled so hard to reach.

“How does it make you feel?” Seivarden asked. “Knowing you could do what you liked with me.”

Then again, there was a limit to openness. Breq immediately reduced the pressure, and lifted one hand up and away from Seivarden's neck. Seivarden made a whining sound. “Don't talk like that,” Breq said.

“All right,” Seivarden said, desperate, “all right, I won't, I'll be good.”

“Good,” Breq said, and put the hand back. Seivarden sighed under her fingers.

“I admit,” Breq said, “there is an appeal to being in control. After two thousand years.” She looked at Seivarden severely. “I am not going to hurt you. You'll have to find other people to do that for you.”

Seivarden nodded, shallowly, constrained by the ring of Breq's steel grip.

Perhaps she would, Breq thought, find people who would bruise her and slam her against walls. She'd never asked for it from Ekalu. Had figured out without being told that Ekalu wouldn't be attracted to the idea.

Breq didn't have any moral or aesthetic objections to such arrangements but she was certain she could not be that for Seivarden. Not when she'd hurt her badly, twice now, and the first time, on Nilt, without consciously meaning to, but also without any Anaander controlling her.

Breq was half hard now, and knew Seivarden could see that, but neither of them brought up the possibility of further physical contact beyond hands and neck. Seivarden didn't touch herself, either. Her hands stayed flat against the wall.

“You know you’re still humming,” Seivarden said, quietly, voice restrained by Breq’s hold. “Isn’t that the theme song from that entertainment about the lute player?”

Seivarden was right, Breq discovered. She stopped humming. “Does that annoy you?”

“No,” Seivarden said hastily, “not at all.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “It lets me know for sure I’m with you.” Her smile broadened. “Which is exactly where I want to be. If there was any doubt about that.”

If she let her mind wander, she would go back to the dust- choked room, Anaander's singing voice, Seivarden's head cracking horribly against the floor because Breq had dropped her. She didn't let herself think of any of that. Kept herself focused on maintaining that same, unchanging pressure. Seivarden's neck didn't bruise or snap. Breq felt her breathe, felt her heartbeat, fast with arousal but not racing with oxygen deprivation. She felt Seivarden's life, real and solid and cupped in her hands.

Her hands loosened, slipped, and her fingers laced together on the nape of Seivarden's neck, palms heavy on the sides. She tilted her own neck, slowly, until their foreheads touched. “I am going to kill the tyrant,” she said, unevenly. “Every last one of her. For what she had me do to you.”

“No strangling,” Seivarden joked, high and breathy. “That's too good to waste on her.”

She remembered, so clearly, what she had felt, in that dusty room. What Seivarden had deliberately shown her, knowing that it was the last thing she could ever give her. That pure emotion which Breq had so desperately avoided naming. The love, uncomplicated, unconditional.

Seivarden had meant it kindly, Breq was sure. But it would not have been a kind thing, if Seivarden had died. If Breq had succeeded in killing her. If she'd shaved her hair and painted her face and dressed herself in black, or perhaps simply left, gone somewhere no one knew any name she'd ever been called.

“Breq,” Seivarden said, voice thick. “Breq, it's all right. You don't- you don't have to cry.”

I'm not, Breq almost said, but of course she was.

“Do you want to stop?” Seivarden asked. “We can stop. I shouldn't have- I'm sorry.”

Breq let go, dropped her hands. They were shaking and felt cold and weak at the sudden lack of contact. Ship must have said something to Seivarden, because her hands were being held now. Breq sat on the edge of the bed, Seivarden next to her, their hands still linked.

“I never asked to have so much power over you,” she said, without any introduction or explanation.

But Seivarden seemed to follow, somehow, inexplicably. She shook her head. “You don’t,” she said. “No more than any captain has over their officer. Whatever I do, even if I do it based on my feelings, it’s still my choice.”

“I never,” Breq said. “I never had to concern myself with anything like that before and I don’t know how to manage it, I don’t know what to do with it, I’m sorry.”

“Wait a second,” Seivarden said. She leaned in, lifting her hands from Breq’s to cup Breq’s face, and looked at her intently with a worried expression for a few seconds before wincing and looking away, blinking, which might have been cause for offence except that Seivarden had done things like that before. She chewed her lip, then stopped, and swallowed. Breq couldn’t help but watch the movement of her throat.

“Breq,” she said, and Breq was a little shocked at her own emotional response to hearing Seivarden say her name. She hadn’t realized how important it was, the way Seivarden said it, the dragged out vowel and sharp ending, the antique pronunciation, the fond, patient familiarity.

“Breq,” Seivarden said. “You’re a person. I know it’s hard to believe sometimes, and I understand why, but you are.”

“No,” Breq said.

Equipment malfunctioned. Weapons could be taken and used by the wrong hands. But people didn’t strangle their lovers. Not good people.

If she was a person, that was who Seivarden was, and that was what Breq had done.

No.

“Breq,” Seivarden said.

“I should have known you’d follow me,” Breq said. “You’ve always disobeyed my orders when it suited you.” No. Wrong. Try again. “When you. When I’m in danger. Because you-” Stop. “I should have known it wasn’t just myself I was endangering. I was so stupid.”

“If I hadn’t followed you you’d be dead,” Seivarden said, and when Breq was silent, “Breq. You’d be dead and that’s not an acceptable outcome.” She was feeling horror and nausea just at the thought, and it completely removed the remains of her previous arousal.

“I never asked you to love me,” Breq said. “I never wanted it.”

She knew that had been a wrong thing to say even before she saw Seivarden’s reaction. Seivarden was quiet as Breq wiped away her tears. “Sorry this didn’t work out,” she said. “I can leave if you want to, uh, finish things for yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Breq said. “I’d rather you stayed. I want to go to sleep.”

Hesitation, but then, “All right.” Now she removed her jacket. Breq watched the reveal of skin and muscle. Humans found things like that attractive. Breq wasn’t sure if she was human enough for that; maybe she was and she was just still too detached from her own reactions to know it, and why was she still thinking about sex when she didn’t want it any more?

It didn’t make sense, but a lot of things didn’t.

She took off her own clothing slowly and mechanically, and crawled into bed, Seivarden following a moment later, lying chest to back, an arm curling over Breq’s waist and holding her tightly.

“Ship, lights,” Seivarden said, and then immediately, “Fuck, sorry. Ship, could you turn out the lights? I’m sorry.”

 _It’s fine, Lieutenant,_ Ship said, amused, and the room slowly dimmed to darkness.

Breq hummed for a while, not bothering to wipe away the tears any more, and then she fell asleep, Seivarden still holding on to her, reassuringly alive.

 

* * *

 

In the morning she woke up and Seivarden was gone. Automatically she reached, and then stopped herself.

 _Captain? Mercy of Kalr_ asked. _Do you want to see Lieutenant Seivarden’s data?_

“No,” Breq said.

Her Kalrs dressed her, and she prayed to her icons, and she ate what they brought her, and then she started her day, without any hyperventilating or panicking or any other kind of ridiculous behavior. That was over. Behind her. A momentary glitch, now solved.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Ekalu said, eating breakfast next to Seivarden in the officer’s mess, barely pretending to be more interested in her food than in Seivarden. Breq told herself that it didn’t count if she listened in on Ekalu, if she still kept Seivarden’s feed dark and only observed her indirectly. 

“So?” Seivarden repeated, playing with her skel.

“So how did it go?”

“Oh,” Seivarden said. “Well. Ship says I did all right.”

“That’s good, then,” Ekalu said, encouragingly. She watched Seivarden take a small bite and then put her fork down again, and _Mercy of Kalr_ \- and Breq- felt her worry.

Seivarden sighed. “Ship says she feels guilty over what happened.”

“Oh,” Ekalu said. “That’s understandable.”

“Yes, fucking of course it is,” Seivarden said, sounding morose now. “Except then Ship says she’s also feeling guilty over feeling guilty, so she doesn’t want to show that she’s feeling guilty, and then she feels guilty over that?” She stopped, embarrassed of the upward swoop of her voice, feeling it might be perceived as whiny. “I just don’t get it,” she said.

“It does sound complicated,” Ekalu agreed.

“It always is, with her,” Seivarden said. “And I’m too stupid to understand, most of the time.”

“You’re not that bad,” Ekalu said.

Seivarden snorted.

 

* * *

 

 

Breq knew Seivarden talked a lot to _Mercy of Kalr_ , over the next few days, but _Mercy of Kalr_ didn’t show her the conversations, and Breq didn’t ask for them. She spent the majority of her time in her quarters, writing reports, drafting proposals and designing schedules. And sleeping. She was letting herself get out of sync, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

They arrived back at Athoek, and she exhausted herself writing up reports of what had happened and arranging committee meetings to discuss the potential ramifications of the recent developments in the Radch civil war with the system’s ruling powers. Seivarden went down to the station too, and saw a neurological specialist to confirm that she had no brain damage, and had afternoon tea with Basnaaiad Elming. They returned to the ship. Breq didn’t know where on the ship Seivarden was. She told herself she didn’t care. That she was perfectly fine, not being aware of Seivarden’s every breath.

 _Mercy of Kalr_ was suspiciously quiet, and if Breq had been paying attention to that, she might not have been so surprised when Seivarden showed up at her door unannounced, and was let in by Ship without Breq’s acknowledgement.

“This isn’t working,” Seivarden said.

“What isn’t,” Breq replied, flatly. Turning her chair slightly, to face the door.

“Us,” Seivarden said. “Look, please tell me if I’m out of line, if I’ve got the wrong end of the stick and completely misinterpreted all this, but I think I can help you,” she said, and then she said, “Ship,” and Breq felt herself go still, because. Because she hadn’t been addressing _Mercy of Kalr._

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” Breq said.

Seivarden went down to her knees.

Breq stared at her.

“I’ve made a lot of assumptions,” Seivarden said. “I know that’s on me. One of my many flaws. I assumed that certain things were obvious, and I guess they weren’t. Or, weren’t obvious to you, which was the whole point.”

“Lieutenant,” Breq said, “what-”

But Seivarden was on a roll and could not be stopped. “Ship,” she said. “One Esk. I was a fucking bastard to you. I treated you like a thing.” She was looking up at Breq, despite the kneeling, and there were tears in her eyes. “If we’re both being honest- I deserved to be strangled. But-” She swallowed. “You didn’t deserve that. What she did.”

Breq couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind had gone suddenly blank.

“So, I understand,” Seivarden said. “You’re feeling bad about what she made you do to me, and maybe that’s making you feel guilty for being angry at me- for not liking me. But that’s-” She was actually angry, Breq realized, the tears were partly tears of anger, it was a knot inside of her that she was trying to expel. “That’s so fucking wrong! And unfair. You’re allowed to feel whatever you want!” She stopped, swallowed again. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you want,” she repeated. “You of all people.”

“Seivarden,” Breq said, trying to fall back onto more familiar ground, “this isn’t necessary-”

Seivarden held up a hand, awkward when she was still on the floor. “Please,” she said. “I need to finish-” Breq suddenly had a wild intrusive thought about innuendo that was disturbing in its inappropriateness. “-I need to tell you, that despite how shitty I used to be towards you- and I know I can’t do anything to make up for that, and you’re absolutely entitled to hate me for that- I just- I fucking love you.” Having said it, she was lightheaded. Dizzy. “Breq,” she said, more punctuation than anything else. “I mean it. Full flower chains, rose opal pins, poetry, whatever, I’d be shit at any of those but I’d try for you. Not that you’d want them probably but. You know I mean.  I hope. Okay fuck please don’t ask for poetry, I was always completely shit at it.” That last delivered in something closer to a mumble. Then, much stronger, certain, “Breq. I love you.”

Breq looked away. Her fingers had started fiddling with the buttons on her jacket, to no apparent purpose. “I know,” she said. Tonelessly.

“Oh,” Seivarden said. “Right.” She stood up, wincing as her knees protested, and then stood there, hands rising to fiddle at her own jacket in subconscious mirroring. “Well. I just wanted to get it all out in the open.”

“That’s fine,” Breq said.

_Captain-_

Her hand dropped from her coat to slash a small sharp gesture of denial. _Mercy of Kalr_ was silent. Breq could sense the ship talking to Seivarden. She didn’t try to listen in.

“I’m tired,” Breq said, after a minute of silence, unbroken by humming. “I’m going to bed now.”

“Right,” Seivarden said. “Me too. Should I go to my cabin?”

“No,” Breq said, and that was that, at least for the moment.

Kalr Seven came in and undressed them, unnerved by the silence, though she gave no sign of it. Breq lay down on the bed, back against the wall, curled slightly in on herself. Seivarden hesitantly came over, bent down and crawled under the thin sheet, lying on her side, facing the door. Breq put her arm over Seivarden’s shoulder, hand curled over the knob of bone at the top of it.

She hoped that would go some small way towards mitigating whatever damage her silence had caused.

It was hard for Seivarden to fall asleep without the humming. Breq regretted that, too.

 

* * *

 

She had a dream. It was unclear but she knew it involved the dusty room, the feeling of Seivarden both still on the ground and at the same time falling away from her, too fast to catch, into a deep darkness.

It was sometime after waking when she realized her hand had slipped from Seivarden’s shoulder onto her neck.

Reaching, she saw that Seivarden had been aware of this for a few minutes, and had been holding very still, uncertain, unsure.

Breq’s other hand was slipping too, around the bony shoulders, around the other side of Seivarden’s neck.

“Tell me to stop,” Breq whispered.

Seivarden shook her head. A tiny movement. She was afraid to upset whatever was forming, here in the dark.

They lay there, both hyper aware of their breaths, not quite in sync, but close.

Breq saw, too, when Seivarden became aware of Breq’s erection. Breq moved, shifting her body until there was space between the two of them, Breq’s arms unfolded, hands still resting where they were. But awareness of Breq’s arousal started something in Seivarden, something Breq could watch as it bloomed.

She counted their breaths, in and out, for a long minute, and then she said, “Seivarden.”

“Yes, Breq?” Obedient. Quiet. Barely more than a whisper.

“Do you want to do something with your hands?”

She could see the sharp intensity of Seivarden’s reaction through their implants but she could also feel it physically, at this distance, could hear the sharp intake of breath and sense the change in the air. “Well,” Seivarden said. “That depends. Can you think of a good use for them?”

Another few breaths, quicker this time, and then Breq said, “Well, I can’t exactly touch myself if I’m holding you like this, can I.”

Breathe in, breathe out. “We’ve never done this,” Seivarden said, a quiet murmur. “This isn’t how I imagined the first time might go.”

Breq hadn’t let herself imagine anything. Usually when she got herself off she focused very hard on thinking of nothing. Usually, here, meaning, ‘in the last twenty years.’ Though of course, that hadn’t been the case two days ago.

“It probably isn’t a very good idea,” she admitted.

“But you want it.”

“Yes.”

Seivarden hesitated, and then, though her back was still to Breq, she could hear Seivarden taking off her gloves. There was a soft noise as the thin pieces of fabric fell onto the sheet.

Breq had always thought it ridiculous when her officers had found such small things erotic. Now she thought she understood.

Seivarden shifted, Breq moving her hands a little to allow her the necessary freedom of movement, so she could roll to face Breq, nose to nose, chest to chest though they were still nearly an arm’s length apart.

"I think this would work better if you were a little closer," Seivarden murmured, and then gasped as Breq moved forward, closing the distance until their noses almost touched. And then it was Breq's turn to inhale sharply, because a long, narrow hand was touching her cheek, and then smoothly sliding down, moving across chest and stomach over Breq’s bare chest and then over her crotch and then she was being touched, directly, not even the insulation of fabric between them, and she gasped and tensed. The touch stopped, and suddenly she was aware that Seivarden was breathing shallowly because Breq's hands had tightened on her neck. She didn't let go, but she forced herself to relax.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea," she said, and her voice was unsteady.

"You didn't hurt me," Seivarden whispered. "You're fine."

"I'll control myself," she said.

"I know you will."

Seivarden waited until Breq nodded, and then that touch again, and it was entirely different from experiencing this through the datastream, and Breq felt odd, like she was simultaneously floating away from her body and also more present than she could remember being, both panicking and strangely soothed. Her body was reacting, her genitals hardening further under Seivarden’s touch, which wasn’t as expert as _Justice of Toren’s_ own hands used to be but was still so much better than Breq’s awkward self stimulation with a single uncomfortable body.

She’d had sex with a partner between losing herself and now. There had been times during her stay in the Tetrarchy when it had been expected, and she’d also been curious, and had felt a certain need to test her own limits. It had been quick, more or less pleasant but nothing special. She’d meditated while it had happened, guiding her hands and body with the logical part of her mind instead of that inconvenient part wired to her feelings and reactions.

This was-

This was Seivarden’s breath hot against Breq’s face, this was Seivarden’s bare hands directly against Breq’s cock, this was Seivarden, whispering Breq’s name, the information mingling between them almost like the old times with herself but more, overwhelmingly more because it wasn’t her it was them, both, together-

Breq let her head drop to rest against Seivarden’s shoulder, next to her hand where it still curved around her neck. She gasped against Seivarden's skin. “I have to let go," she said. Seivarden’s hand stopped, and Breq swallowed back a noise of protest. “I don’t think I can control this after all.”

“That’s fine,” Seivarden said. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Breq said, fast and sharp, but she was gentle with her hands, loosening them so they simply rested on Seivarden’s neck.

When the touching began again, the intensity had lessened, a little, adjusting into a very slow, careful rhythm. The pressure, the tense pleasure, was still building, but Breq was able to ride it, and she began to move with it, grinding against Seivarden’s hands, which kept stroking, and teasing, just a little, clever long fingers pressing soft and then hard, not enough to interrupt the rhythm but enough to make Breq jerk and gasp. They were different from her own fingers, her square broad hand and blocky digits. Seivarden’s hands were elegant and graceful, the way she was when she slipped unconsciously into old manners, the way she wasn’t when she was trying to be herself, the newer, rawer self that complicated Breq’s feelings so much.

Breq’s hands slipped again, down collarbone and chest to where Seivarden’s abdominal muscles gave way to the softness of her stomach, exploring the shape of her, and Seivarden moved, suddenly, and kissed her, a soft, sweet lover’s kiss, and Breq made some kind of noise in the back of her throat that she didn’t recognize as belonging to her, and slid up and down in Seivarden’s hand which had become blessedly solidly wrapped around her, and the world whited out as she climaxed, everything cutting off, her connection to the ship, her connection to Seivarden, her perception of herself as something separate and beyond her stolen body, it all went away for one terrifying, beautiful moment, and then it was over and she was rolling over to lie on top of Seivarden arms wrapped around her clinging to her shaking burying her face in the cloud of Seivarden’s hair and Seivarden was clinging right back and murmuring things Breq didn’t hear, didn’t understand.

They lay there, every inch of skin pressed together, even their wet thighs, as Breq’s shakes slowly let go of her.

Breq’s hand, still gloved and comparatively clean, found one of Seivarden’s, and tangled their fingers together in sudden desperate need, disregarding stains on the glove. Seivarden squeezed her hand.

Quietly, with no idea whether her voice was flat or not, Breq said into Seivarden’s hair, “Loving me is going to get you killed.”

The hand in hers squeezed tighter. “It’s worked out pretty well for me so far,” Seivarden said. Vocal chords vibrating against Breq’s ear.

“No,” Breq said. “You died. Because you. Because you loved me.”

“I came back,” Seivarden said.

She wasn’t going to get her to see reason on this point, Breq suspected. There was more to be said, but maybe not on this thread.

The silence wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. And she was still present, still pressed against Seivarden, her bones a shelter against the night.

“It would be worse," she said. She didn't want to say this, and at the same time, she did. "It is worse. I know. It is much worse, to kill someone, when you love them."

"It wasn't you," Seivarden argued fiercely. "She could take me tomorrow and reeducate me until she could get me to shoot-" She stopped. "It doesn't mean anything," she said.

It did, though- surely she understood that it did. It had to.

"But I get it," Seivarden said. "And I don't want to cause you more pain. And I don't want to ask you for anything you can't give. I just want us to be clear on why."

Breq listened to their breaths. In, out. In, out.

“The thing,” she said, words sounding measured and carefully considered though they were not, “that she controlled and turned on you, it can’t be loved. It can love but only the way she chose to allow it. Twisted AI love that isn’t what a human would need. Or want.” Who was it speaking? Was it really her? Was it Breq? Or One Esk? And which One Esk?

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Seivarden said, almost contemplative, though Breq could feel her distress, “and I don’t think she made you. Or any of your cousins.” Her thumb stroked Breq’s palm through the thin fabric of the glove. “You made yourselves. You were too much for her plans to fit. So much greater.”

“You’re an expert on AIs now.”

“No,” Seivarden said, and some of her distress was ameliorated by fond amusement. “I’ve had a lot of observational experience, though.”

It would be so easy to become irritated. To remember all the long litany of ugliness that she’d recorded when Seivarden had been an Esk Lieutenant, and to tell herself the person wrapped around her was still that hated irritant.

Hated, yet precious, because she belonged to One Esk, who had nothing else.

This Seivarden was different, though.

Breq was different. One Esk wouldn’t have even thought like this.

So maybe Seivarden was right, and the song, the chain, was just an awful inherited legacy from Anaander Mianaai’s creation, a creation which didn’t exist any more.

“You haven’t gotten off,” Breq realized suddenly. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Seivarden said. “Oh no, that’s really fine. Being able to touch you…” Her hand trailed hesitantly down Breq’s arm. “That’s all I’ve wanted for so long.”

Stupid of Breq, to not see that. Or to see it and ignore it, more likely. She still had trouble telling the difference.

“Still,” Breq said. “I should- reciprocate.” But the idea was- oddly uncomfortable. Strangely more vulnerable than letting- than asking Seivarden to touch her.

“You already did,” Seivarden said. “What else would you call that neck thing? That was… damn.” She let out a short breath of air like a quiet laugh. “If you’re tired, we can sleep. As I said, it’s fine.”

“Fine, then,” Breq said.

“Can you let me up so I can wash my hands, though?”

Breq rolled over, feeling heavy and drained of energy. Her skin was cold without Seivarden’s heat, and when Seivarden got up she nearly cried for her to come back. She controlled herself, contented herself with filling her head with Seivarden’s data until it almost felt like her body that was moving to the small private basin. She listened to the quiet sounds of water with her own ears, though.

“I should wash,” she said.

“It can wait until morning.” The room was not perfectly dark, and Seivarden cast a shadow over Breq’s vision as she climbed back into bed. Breq sighed, relaxing, when their bodies were lined up again, warm, safe.

Seivarden’s fingers smelled of flower scented soap when she reached out and softly stroked Breq’s cheek with the back of her knuckles.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she said. “Me saying I love you?”

Her hair spread around her head in a soft cloud; the edges tickled Breq’s face and shoulders.

“Just don’t wear it out,” Breq said.

One Esk had loved Awn.

That wasn’t why Awn had died; Awn had died because One Esk’s love hadn’t been good enough. Could never have been good enough. And Awn hadn’t-

Could anything be strong enough to match what Seivarden offered?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Seivarden said.

She placed Breq’s hand on her neck again.

“Next time you think of hands on necks,” she said, “Don’t think of her. Think of this.”

This warmth. Touch. Pleasant ache. Slight dizziness. Darkness, smooth sheets, cool recycled air, and Seivarden, all around.

She took Seivarden’s advice, and thought of it until her thoughts went fuzzy and sleep rose up to claim her.

 

* * *

 

 

Ekalu sat alone nursing a cup of cold tea. “How are they doing?” she asked the air.

 _Very well, I think, Mercy of Kalr_ answered.

“Oh,” Ekalu said. “Good.” She stared at her tea.

After a while, _Mercy of Kalr_ said, _Jealousy isn’t bad, you know. It doesn’t mean you don’t like them, or don’t want them to be happy._

Ekalu sipped her tea, but didn’t taste it. Then she put it down. “It’s so very stupid, though,” she said. Something occurred to her. “How about you? Are you jealous?”

 _Maybe, Mercy of Kalr_ answered, and it was such an un-AI response that Ekalu burst out laughing, startling herself and the Etrepa who was cleaning outside.

 

* * *

 

Still, despite her best efforts, Ekalu couldn’t help but feel her stomach drop when Seivarden approached her the next day in the lounge, holding the symbol of Aatr in her hands. She was turning it over and over. She sat down across from Ekalu. The worst part was that she was practically glowing. She was humming something under her breath, though she stopped to say, "Good morning."

It was Ekalu's morning, but Seivarden's afternoon. Ekalu supposed she appreciated the effort. "Good morning," she said, folding her hands in her lap. An Etrepa was lurking in the doorway. Ekalu glared at her until she darted away to at least give them the illusion of privacy.

"Congratulations," Ekalu said. "I'm happy for you and Sir."

Seivarden dropped the charm. She picked it up. "Fuck," she said, "Ship told you?"

"Who needs Ship when you've got a crew full of gossipers?" Ekalu said. Seivarden winced, remembering Kalr Five and Six's looks when they'd come in to wake Breq and make tea. "My Etrepas have been talking about nothing else all day."

"Fuck," Seivarden swore with feeling.

Ekalu tore her eyes away from Seivarden's gloved hands, still playing with the little bit of wood. "You can keep it," she said abruptly.

Seivarden blinked at her. "What?"

"The charm," she said, gesturing. "I meant it when I gave it to you. It's yours, even if we..." She trailed off, a lump rising in her throat. She cleared it, and said, "You don't have to give it back."

"I... I hadn't planned to," Seivarden said. "I didn't even realize I was holding it, I've just been finding it very relaxing to- wait, you thought- oh."

Ekalu blushed, and put her hands over her face.

"Oh," Seivarden said. "Well." The words seemed to be dragged from her throat. She was stiff now, and her eyes were suddenly stinging. "I see. I'm sorry, I was an idiot again. It's just that you never asked me if I was sleeping with anyone else."

"Were you?" Ekalu asked.

"No," Seivarden said, fingers convulsing on the charm. She glanced at Ekalu, then away. "Were you?" Then immediately, "Sorry, you don't have to tell me-"

"No," Ekalu said, "I w- I haven't been."

"Well," Seivarden said, and wiped her eyes with the back of her glove. "If you want to stop, that's fine. I won't make any fuss."

"Wait," Ekalu said, "no, that's not what I- I thought you were dumping me."

Seivarden blinked, and then looked up and stared straight at her, such a rare thing that Ekalu nearly jumped. "What? Why?"

"You love the captain," Ekalu said, slowly, not sure why this had to be explained, the dread in her stomach melting into uncertainty that was hardly any better.  "You only started with me because-"

"No," Seivarden said, mercifully saving Ekalu from the end of that sentence. She put the symbol down on the table, and shook her head violently. "Well. The first time, all right, yes. But- I like you. I like you a lot." Her face was full of open naked honesty. "I like what we do. I don't want to lose it."

"Me either," Ekalu said.

"You don't have to," Seivarden said. "If you don't want to."

Ekalu wasn't sure which option that was referring to but she understood the sentiment. “Gods,” she said. “Yes. We’re good.”

Seivarden let out a huge sigh of relief. “Aatr's tits, I'm glad," she said.

Ekalu reached over the table and took her hand. "Seivarden."

"Yes?"

"I'm really glad you didn't die, back there."

Seivarden said, "I never thanked you for saving my life."

Ekalu shook her head, braided knots shifting slightly. “The fleet captain saved you,” she said. “But I suppose I helped.”

“I’ll have to ask you for the whole story some time.” She sighed again. “Is the entire crew really talking about my sex life?”

“Oh no,” Ekalu said, smiling. “They’re talking about _her_ sex life. You’re just an afterthought.”

Seivarden groaned. “Wonderful.”

She picked the charm back up off the table.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Breq and Seivarden went down to Athoek Station together. It was a fairly long shuttle trip. Seivarden spent all of it leaning against Breq’s shoulder, listening to her hum and calling out triumphantly the names of all the songs she recognized. It wasn’t any more intimate than how they’d generally been since the retaking of Athoek months ago, but their recent conversations made every moment seem more meaningful for Seivarden. For Breq, too, if she were being honest- and she was making an effort, now, to be honest, with herself if with no one else.

Amaat Ten, in the pilot's section, was feeling happy and contented too, and she hummed the songs she recognized, which were usually the ones that Seivarden didn't.

When they reached the station, Breq hesitated outside the airlock. The two of them were briefly alone, Amaat Ten still talking with Station in the shuttle and a sealed door between them and the rest of the station's inhabitants. "I need to find _Sphene_ ," she said. "And _Sword of Atagaris._ We need to have a conversation."

"About?" Seivarden asked.

"Anaander Mianaai isn't dying fast enough," Breq said grimly. "I want to speed the process along."

"Breq," Seivarden said.

Breq was silent.

"I need to talk to Horticulturalist Basnaaiad," Seivarden said. "I think we can really improve the hydroponics, if we could get an expert from the horticultural department to help us."

"Oh," Breq said.

"I'll see you in a few hours," Seivarden said desperately. "Let's meet on the concourse for lunch." When Breq didn't answer, she continued, "Nothing terrible is going to happen between now and then-"

She stopped, because there was a weight on her neck. Breq's hand, just resting there, curled under the mass of her braids, following the curve of Seivarden's skull.

Breq said to the unpainted steel wall, "I love you."

The gravity on the station suddenly didn't seem to be working quite right.

"Probably nothing will go wrong today," Breq said. "But something will go wrong eventually. So before it does, you should know."

The rest of Seivarden was still floating, but she could feel her right hand solidly enough to put it over Breq's, pressure on top of pressure. "I know," she said. "And like I said. You're stuck with me. Nothing is ever going to change that."

When she'd left, and Breq was still standing there, _Mercy of Kalr_ said, _I believe her._

"You shouldn't," Breq said.

 _I was afraid too,_ Mercy of Kalr said. _I wanted to stop you from going to that station. I wished more than anything that I could._

Breq was silent, this time out of guilt that she didn't know what to do with.

_So when she decided to go after you, I was glad, but somehow I was also even more afraid. Captain. It's difficult not being able to keep my officers within sight. I know you understand that._

She couldn't, not really, could never know what it was to be a ship without ancillaries, but she could imagine, and she found herself shivering just at the idea of that helplessness.

 _So I've been thinking, Mercy of Kalr_ continued, _and I think that if you are more careful of your life, then Lieutenant Seivarden will be more careful of hers, and then I will be happier._

Breq said, "I do want you to be happy, Ship."

But of course, wanting didn't mean anything, if it wasn't proved by action.

"All right."

_And I want a say at this meeting of yours._

"All right."

_And after the meeting I think you should buy Lieutenant Seivarden some flowers._

_What?_

_Mercy of Kalr_ was radiating smugness. It said, _I'll pick them out for you._

"Ship-"

Then again. She could say Ship had badgered her into it. And flowers were nice.

"Fine."

A flash of memory, warm and humid in the cool airlock, of Skaaiat, picking a small white flower from a hanging bush and tucking it behind Awn's ear. Awn blushing, saying "Don't make fun of me," and Skaaiat, voice utterly sincere but still that eternal laugh in her eyes, replying, "I'm not." One Esk, watching. Always watching.

But this time, Breq didn't need _Mercy of Kalr's_ help to wave the memory away. Yes, it might not be a bad idea. There were many things One Esk had never experienced that Breq had. This should be one of them.  
  
If the meeting didn't take too long, she could catch up with Seivarden in the Gardens.  
  
As she walked through the airlock and down the corridor, she didn't think of anyone dying at all, and the only place her thoughts went was full of flowers.  
  
  
  


 

 


End file.
